Robbed in La Boca, Boca, Boca

Buenos Aires is a city of highs and lows. One night you are having the time life your life, dancing at an amazing nightclub enjoying all the luxuries youth has to offer (free entry and drinks included)…The next day you are walking down a street while scanning through pictures on your new DSLR camera when suddenly, a man comes from behind, pulls a knife out on you at 4:30pm in broad daylight, and demands that you give him your camera.

I took a wrong turn. I made a mistake. I didn't know.

The whole thing was pretty silly actually. The man was not very intimidating at all. He was about the same age and weight as me. Muy flaco. His knife was small and rusted. From making brief eye contact with him, I could tell this was his first time doing something like this and imagining his thought process before he decided to take action is very simple. There I was, being cool and American and carefree with my DSLR around my neck (might as well haven been gold)… wearing a really cute t-shirt that I’d just ordered from online (A t-shirt I was so excited to wear in Buenos Aires) …prancing around one of the most dangerous barrios in Buenos Aires, La Boca ( Check out the history: http://www.buenostours.com/caminito).La Boca visitors are advised to walk along only two sites, El Caminito (the street of colored houses) and the Boca Juniors’ soccer stadium, and one step away from these tourist sites and you’re in danger. So, one wrong step and I was an easy target. El ladrón (thief) knew this. I knew this. To him, I was carrying two months worth of rent on my neck…or maybe even a ticket out of poverty.

How could I have been so dumb?

When I finally realized the situation I was in, I screamed a classic “Ahhhhh,” but the scream didn’t feel sincere. It was as if I was screaming just because that’s what I had seen people do in the movies. I tried to snatch back my camera but to no avail. El ladrón ran off, and (because it is what one does in the movies) I ran after him. But then…I stopped. I realized I was not in a movie and that the situation I was in was a result of my own actions. I knew La Boca was/is a dangerous place but to my defense, I didn’t think the area looked very dangerous. Sure there was garbage and dilapidated buildings around me, but that’s what most of Buenos Aires looks like!

So, picture this: Me standing in the middle of the street watching el ladrón disappear into the concrete maze while yelling for help that never came. Haha, such a tourist’s tale.

After the incident, I went to El Caminito to see the famous & colorful conventillos that I remember seeing so enchantingly displayed in photos prior to arriving.

As I sat on a bench staring at the conventillos (a moment I looked forward to for months), I hated Argentina. I was not mad at el ladrón but mad at a country….a country that would allow its people to live in such terrible circumstances; mad because of the pollution around the city; mad at the deep disparities in income and wealth in Argentina…in the US…in the world.

To put myself at ease with my experience with el ladrón, I’ve forced myself to believe that he will sell my camera and buy his family a decent meal tonight or pay February’s rent on time…and maybe even order a cute shirt from online!

I remained frozen at the bench in front of the conventillos. I couldn’t move….I spent 20 minutes connecting the dots between my life and life of el ladrón.

I have come to the conclusion that Buenos Aires is a dusty pearl. There are so many opportunities available in the city. There are beautiful restaurants and people. There is shopping, dancing, laughing. There is fun! But behind it all there are poor people cleaning the dishes you eat with…living paycheck to paycheck….waiting for the right moment to snatch a camera from a young man’s neck. This is no revelation. All cities are like this...but in the US you don’t expect to get robbed in broad daylight. Hah, but guess what Christian, you are NOT in the US anymore.

And so, what do I gain from this? Well, a good story and street cred…and we all want street cred, right? Or maybe I lost street cred because I didn’t fight back. Yeah….I def lost street cred. Dang.

But in all seriousness, I will be more safe. More vigilant. I will continue to learn and make sense of Argentina and this crazy world we live in. I will continue to smile and laugh and be myself.

Man, I love life! Gracias a la vida!

Day 2 Revived: I guess I am Not a Bad Communicator After All

After my fiasco at San Martin, I was hesitant to talk to Argentines at all. I walked a few miles to Palermo, my favorite barrio in Buenos Aires so far! It was beautiful! There, the people were very stylish and walked with the porteño air that I had expected seeing upon arrival but hadn't until now. Cobble-stoned roads. Shady trees. Gardens. Cafés. Boutiques. Fine Dining. Tranquilo. Relaxing! For those in Pittsburgh, think Shadyside. :)

After going shopping at a trendy Mens clothing store, called Bolivia, I decided to find a place to eat. Stumbling upon a “”Deli and Natural Bar” called b-Blue was the pick-me-up I needed! A fresh, natural drink was what I needed! The website is just as awesome as the restaurant. Check it out: http://www.b-blue.com.ar/

After this wonderful lunch, I went to Museo Evita, a museum dedicated to memorializing Evita Perón, the country’s most important women. Think Jackie O, but with a greater social and political presence. This visit stressed the importance of Evita's role in Argentina. She was a goddess. A Saint. A leader.

Then… it was time for a quick rest back at the hostel. Navigating the Metro was pretty stress-free. Hot & Sticky Ride?—Yes. I didn't mind it though. So many different people were on the ride with me, people of all social classes of Buenos Aires. There was even little drama performance, which I thought was real! It was thrilling and frightening! Imagine this: Two men yelling from across the subway train and then Christian…stuck in between the line of fire! Were they yelling at me? I didn’t know! I just put on a dork smile to ease the mood. Then, I realized everyone was laughing at the spectacle. It was a show! The two men continued to yell and flail their arms and spit and crack jokes. After the “argument” was over they took off their hats and asked for donations. They fooled me!

After walking from above the Metro, I found a shady bench along the sidewalk to rest at and then, whipped out my map again to make sure I knew where I was. Then, my second important encounter with a porteño occurred. (This map is trouble). This time it was a woman by the name of Valentina. She had a small build and was dark-skinned, unlike most Argentine people. She explained she was from the north of Argentina near Bolivia, which means she is mostly of indigenous blood. We had a lovely conversation talking about out lives: I, a giddy, 19 year old student in an unfamiliar country; she, maiden 40-something year old woman of experience and grace. She gave me her number and wished me luck with my stay in the city. Yeah son! I got my first set of Argentine Digits! Not what I was expecting but cool nonetheless. My spanish works!

Day 2: A Little Lesson On The Argentine Peso

Darn! I was too tired to write about my first day in Argentina. Lame. In short, it was wild!

I think my Facebook status of the night summed it up pretty well:

Christian Andrés Aponte is overwhelmed! Buenos Aires is one hell of a city! I have learned that mullets are in style here, stop signs are not that important, and steak is life. The world seems so small being here.

It was a day I will always remember..regardless of my faulty memory.

But Day 2 began early and I was off to takeover the city again, this time, well-rested.

My first stop was Calle Florida! Calle Florida is a peatonal, which in English is a very large urban lane where automobiles are prohibited. Along this peatonal are businesses, clothing stores, and other services for the city. A quick summary: very touristy and swapped with humans…rightfully so, since Calle Florida is in the middle of the city. While on Calle Florida, I felt a little uncomfortable. There were people flying from every direction, it was really noisy, and people were hounding me to take their fliers (Eventually I was forced to grab two: An ad to visit Doña Clara the psychic, and another, an ad for a nudie magazine that displays 100% REAL BOOBS!). After checking out a few of the stores in Galerias Pacifico, an outdoor shopping mall and art gallery, I decided to flee from Calle Florida realizing that it was too much hustle and bustle for me! As I got to the end of the peatonal, I came across a beautiful haven of greenery….I can’t tell you how relieved I was. It was so very magical! After treading through the concrete jungle, I had arrived at actual jungle…well, a plaza....with tall palm trees and inviting benches. I was at Plaza San Martin!

After a quick rest on a bench and glance at the map, a man in a uniform approached me. I was a bit skeptical to chat at first, but he was very friendly. He explained a little about the plaza and said he was a volunteer for a program that works with orphan children. A-ha! That’s why he was so friendly...He wanted money! So I dug in my pocket and handed him 50 centavos. I figured since the American dollar is worth four times the amount of a peso, 50 centavos would be a nice donation…..Just multiply 50 centavos by four and you get 2 pesos….Right??? WRONG! 50 centavos is half of an Argentine peso. Which means I should have divided (instead of multiplying) 50 centavos by 4 and realized that it only is worth 12 cents in America. The man was so insulted by my offer that he started yelling and refused to take my coin. In Spanish he hollered, “This would never feed a poor child! Leave and go buy a cup of coffee with your change!” I was so confused and disheartened by my poor communication skills. I ran away with my 50 centavos without looking back. Later, I realized what had done the wrong dollar conversion. I don’t think I will forget the Argentine Peso to American Dollar Rate again.

My First 'Blog' Post

Blog—such a funny-sounding word. I’ve just discovered that it is derived from the word “weblog”…as in a log, or a record of incidents, found on the World Wide Web. Cool to know. Blog…Blah blah blah....Ga ga ga—Blog.

I have always viewed producing an ongoing narrative (for an online audience), such as this, as pretentious and unnecessary but realizing that I have a terrible memory and some blogs are cool, this may not be a bad idea. Plus, I would like to go back as a hip, grey-haired grandpa and read and make fun of all the pretentious things I’ve said when I was young. ;)

But more importantly, the impetus behind making this blog is my long-awaited sojourn to Buenos Aires, Argentina! Ahhhh! My first time out of the country! Ahhhh! Obliged to speak a language I am not fluent in! Ahhh! Being considered a “foreigner”? I dig it.

I’ve chosen to study and travel to Buenos Aires simply because it is a great city: sub-tropical weather; proud and educated residents; distinct history & culture; fashion & arts thrive; built in a beautiful country with wonderful landscapes. I dig it.

Honestly, I am unsure of what to expect. But I do know that this journey will not be ordinary. I have spent too much time obsessing over this city, country, and its people for it to be just another American kid’s “study abroad trip.” In the past months, I have researched so many topics. 70s Argentine rock music, I got it covered! Commonly used Argentine curse words? Umm Hmm, I can tell you about those. Gauchos&Barrios&Gardel&LoveHotels? Baby, I’m yours. What I am trying to say is that I will make the most of every moment I spend in Argentina! Gracias a la vida!

I will be arriving one week before the start of the program. This week will be committed to being a dorky sightseer. Fanny pack and all. But after this one week, I will shed the fanny pack and become a porteño, a resident of Bs. As. I will also adopt and abide by one rule, one principle that I will keep in mind the rest of my trip.

Rule #1:

Be a traveler, and not a tourist.

This rule arose from a quote of book I have read by Paul Bowles titled Sheltering Sky:

"He did not think of himself as a tourist; he was a traveler. The difference was partly one of time, he would explain. Whereas the tourist generally hurries back home at the end of a few weeks or months, the traveler, belonging no more to one place than the next, moves slowly, over periods of years, from one part of the earth to another."

I will move slowly through Argentina, collecting every bit of knowledge that I can with a very open mind.

And oh yeah, and as for an explanation behind the title of my blog?

It sounds nice. Unlike the word ‘blog’

Sell a cellar, door a cellar, sell a cellar cellar-door, door adore, adore a door, selling cellar, door a cellar, cellar cellar-door.

Selladore.

Do you dig it?

(16 hours till my flight leaves)!